Teacher and Pupil
by Atelniar
Summary: The kingdom of Gilneas stands on the treshold of destruction while the night elves are spread thinly on multiple fronts. A darkness grows ever closer as the earth tremors. Each journey has a beginning and an end.
1. Dark skies

**Dark skies  
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The world was still at odds as droplets of salty rain fell into the lush grass. Sentinels moved swiftly from the docks and onto the great elven ships that were to set sail. The sky was as if dusk had befallen their lands. A dark shadow that lured in the corner of his mind. Knight-Captain Atelniar Shadowrunner stood by and watched as their forces bordered the ship. Among them were druids, priestesses and the sentinels. Even glaives were brought onto the great ships.

"You are nervous?" a soft voice teased the elf, as he stood by and watched the preparations. She had sneaked upon him without him even noticing her. She was that silent and gentle, despite being a sentinel, when sneaking up on him. It felt reassuring and warmed his elven heart just a little bit. He did not turn to face her, for they both knew she had caught him trembling with fear and anticipation. Much like a scared nightsaber that shot its back up and hissed if it was nervous.

"I am. A fool would not be, but I am." Atelniar admitted it, his gaze following the glaive that was dragged and pushed onto the great deck of a ship. Sturdy ropes strapped onto the wooden structure as the Sentinels hauled the massive weapon of war onto their great ship. One of many ships that were to set sail for Gilneas. She joined him. What light was in the sky reflected of the silver pendant she wore, shaped as a single leaf. It was almost as beautiful a sight as the one who wore the pendant.

"I will have to leave, Atelniar, I am bound to my duties in Auberdine. I wanted to see you off properly and remind you to come home. You tend to forget the latter." a hint of worry silenced her words, but he heard them. They stood in silence for a while, as the final few elves boarded the ships. They were about to leave. Atelniar turned about and gave her a smile. He was not that good with words when it came to the opposite gender. His elven hand reached out and gave her cheek a touch before he walked away from her. He did not like walking away. It pained him, but he stepped over the threshold to another journey and took his place among the druids on the ship. He stood out quite clearly with his long white hair.

The sentinel stood in silence and watched as he left with the others. She had seen him leave before and she never liked it. Always, since the day she had seen him with Master Stormcrow, she had seen the back of him. He would always plunder into things, like a fool, but it was partly why she had begun to respect him. It was also the reason that she first spoke to him, primarily to teach him a lesson, and why she noticed him wherever he went. She tried to smile, but all she mustered was to stand in silence and watch as the ship took sail for the wide horizon. The sound of a hippogryph from far above, between the branches of the great tree, claimed her senses back and she walked towards the flight master.

Atelniar's gaze drifted towards the bowels of the great tree where the harbor was, wishing he could be a little more tactful in regards to her when next they would meet. With the great tree in the distance behind them the elves traversed the sea. With the exception of whipping rain the weather held up well for a travel at sea. The wind was strong and howled at the sails, causing them to bloat majestically with the Darnassus sigil declaring their presence on the waves. Space was limited in the crew's quarters and the priestesses were prioritized ahead of the druids and sentinels when it came to comfortable seating. In fact, Atelniar found himself hunched down with his back against the wall underneath a ledge on deck as the rain prickled against his forehead. It changed its nature with time, in his mind Atelniar grew to hate the salty droplets of fresh rain that constantly washed over his face, as the wind made it even worse. Sleep did not come easy, but it came in minor dozes as the journey went on.

After a long and tedious voyage the sky began to darken and on the horizon was the unmistakable outline of the Eastern Kingdoms. The dusky shroud that made it impossible to mistake it for anything but Gilnean land loomed along the entire coastline. Before anyone could muster a single word the sky tore open in a fierce flash and a rumbling roar of thunder shook through every elven ear within reach. Atelniar planted his palms against his ears and glanced up at the sky, which had ripped apart in a bright flash only to grow darker and thicker where the rift of fiery lightning had formed. A deep rumble echoed through the air, sea and the very woodwork of the ship itself. The likes of which the druid had never before witnessed in his days. A great storm, one that would shake the very fabrics of the earth and crumble all hope, had finally been unleashed. The Cataclysm struck as a dark shadow grew ever more prominent above the darkest skies of their time.


	2. A squire of ill news

**A squire of ill news**

"Vingor Stormcrow?" came the call from the open doorway, which beckoned the druid away from his struggle in the rubble. The entire west wing of his home had caved in as a nearby tree fell from the trembling earth a few days past. A sigh escaped his lips, at this rate he would never be able to sort out his own home. On his way to the door he brought his simple wooden staff. Roots were shaped into the wood, quite simple yet elegant at the same time. Each step from the right foot of the tall elf was echoed with the harsh crash of the wooden staff striking the floor in his own home. Furious at the interruption he looked down at the squire standing in front of his elven residence. The frame of Vingor's glasses hitched onto the long eagle nose, as he glanced at the gnome in an unyielding way.

"Who is the squire here, me or you? Even if the door is open you will knock politely and await a response, gnome. I do not enjoy being summoned by anyone, not even Lady Tyrande or Malfurion himself. Do I make myself understood?" the blue-haired druid hissed in his, from his point of view, just anger. Not only were gnomes the most annoying race he had ever had the misfortune of encountering, which had over the years led him to understand the tauren activity they called gnome punting, but they did not even take notice of their own knack for pissing off other people. This was the third time Vingor had to lecture one of the sassy buggers for interrupting him while he was trying to rebuild his own house. One would think that the lack of a wall, and a tree lodged into the side of his house, would hint to the fact that his home had suffered major trauma from the upheaval of the earth itself. The earth shook from time to time, which made it hard to rebuild anything at all.

The gnome was clearly not the same as the previous two. A white-haired creature, if you could call it hair, which stood up around a very bald skull as if it was a snowy crown. The refined druid grinned briefly, wondering if electricity had something to do with the hairstyle. They usually had a less acceptable look, involving pink or other disgusting colors that mixed efficiently with their obvious lack of height and manners. A very painful scar in the scenery and not something Vingor Stormcrow enjoyed to have at his doorway. In fact, one of those Sentinels with their stubborn opinions, their most prominent trait by far, would be a more welcome guest at his home. The little creature seemed nervous, enough so that the old elf took some matter of pity upon him.

"If you intend to soil your pants do give me a warning first, or give me the message you were sent here to relay onto me. Then you could run out on the grass like a fledgling and soil yourself. I do not give the slightest flicker of thought on it as long as you do not pee on my threshold." while his intentions were to be humorous it all came out heavily sarcastic from the tip of his tongue. The little gnome grew pale in a pace that was unheard of for most races. Vingor Stormcrow leaned against the doorway, observing the gnome in silence before removing his glasses calmly. "You do have a message for me, I take it? Or did you actually just drop by in order to piss me off, by leaking poor quality oil on my lawn, as I suggested?"

The wind blew across the green hillside and caused the grass to shiver in its wake before the gnome dared to talk. "Greetings, I'm sorry for disturbing you, Master Stormcrow. I meant no offense, for sure. I even took the liberty of scurrying here as fast as my little legs could carry me. Honestly, Sir. These are important news and must be told!" said the gnome as he pulled a piece of parchment out of his strange utility belt. A strap of brown leather wrapped about his waist with several small bags attached to it. The druid snorted at the gnome abruptly and motioned for him to hand over the parchment at once. The mood changed as Vingor began to read the letter addressed to him:

_To Master Vingor Stormcrow,_

_I plead for your mind's rest as I will have to report that Atelniar Shadowrunner did not report back to the fleet before we sat sail for Teldrassil in great haste. We did not have the time for retrieval of all who were wounded and many were left behind in Gilneas. I am afraid Knight-Captain Shadowrunner met the same fate as many of our kin. The Priestesses informed me that he had no known next-of-kin and that I was to relay these ill news to you._

_It grieves me greatly to inform you of such grave news, but his efforts did contribute to securing the safety of the gilnean people from the grasp of the Horde._

_Yours sincerely, Talar Oaktalon._

The silence reeked from both parts. On one side was the grim elf, towering above the little gnome while his fist began to crumble the parchment and its contents. To read a statement of death about someone you considered your own pupil for many years was not a pleasant experience for Vingor Stormcrow. His throat grew dry and his fist clenched in frustration before he spoke again. "Am I supposed to weep or laugh, is this some third-rate joke you gnomes find entertaining?"

"Pardon, Sir? I don't know the contents of the message you just read and clearly disliked, I may add, but it was given to me by Master Oaktalon himself. If you're questioning my credibility. I'd very much like it if you refrained from implying that I'm some sort of poor jester." demanded the gnome while he placed his fidgety little hands at the utility belt, attempting to indicate the level at which he took offense of the elf's misgivings about him. Dalbur Fitzzcrankle was not the kind of gnome that enjoyed being made a mockery of. "My work here is done, have a nice day!" he had said what needed to be said and clearly felt no need to exchange any further pleasantries with the obviously disgruntled elf as he turned away and walked down the hill, with childishly small footsteps compared to elves and men alike.

The gnome left his land. Clouds far above began to cluster together and grew darker. Vingor stood in silence and contemplated the letter he had read. He suspected his former apprentice to be a tad foolish still, but to freely join a war effort in the Easter Kingdoms was folly even for that lad. Despite all his faults Atelniar was not a mindless grunt, yet he was not the heroic type either. Something was off the mark. The young druid he had known would not fall behind enemy lines in such a way.

He sighed heavily, tilting his head to the side as he observed the skies above. His steps trailed the path that lead from his door and down the hillside. Vingor stopped a few steps from his own doorway, planting the cane into the dirt with a firm thrust. Roots sprouted out of the earth, tearing the lawn up as they embraced the elf's residence and sealed it from trespassers. It would do, he did not know how long he would be gone. With dark thoughts looming over him, he walked clear of the sealed residence and stepped onto the moist grass. A shiver ran through his arms as they morphed into wings. Feathers sprouted out of his body as the druid changed his form into that of a stormcrow. Dark wings stretched outwards before the mighty bird thrust itself into the air, with a fierce screech that caused nearby critters to seek cover between roots and bushes.


	3. The crossing

**The crossing**

The wind was fierce. It ripped at the wings of the mighty stormcrow that attempted to sail with it. Feathers coiled and rustled as the druid sped forth across the forest. The earth itself was torn open, fiery earth and liquid stone leaking from a gigantic gash in the landscape. Even the air itself was filled with fear, as all manner of birds screeched in protest of the river of lava that erupted into flames and demolished their homes. Everything had seemed much calmer under the great tree where Vingor's lodge was built eons ago. His home had withstood the calamity exceptionally well, by sheer luck. There was a stark degree of destruction further inland than he had expected. He knew that he had been very fortunate, compared to the animals whose homes were turned into ash or ripped away from them. As a creature of the sky the druid's eyesight improved immensely and his gaze took in the impact of the disaster. It was an eerie sight to behold as the birds fled to the skies and others ran for cover in holes or caves. The sounds of anguish were easily detected despite the difference between humanoids and animals and for a druid it was all the more clear to him what fear they felt in their tiny hearts.

The giant bird fell starkly in order to avoid the invisible wall of wind that pushed against him. It was unusual for such gales to occur inland and Vingor suspected that the massive vortex on the horizon had something to do with it. The druid sped between branches at a brazen speed that scared squirrels and birds amongst the dense cluster of trees stretching out on all sides. Spots of scorched ground, molten rock and fiery trees haunted his sight. The forest disappeared and the beat of majestic wings brought Vingor Stormcrow sailing above Astranaar and straight for the coast. The lush green went away and was replaced by gray sand. A massive fortress was under construction and what seemed like a makeshift harbor where orc upon orc rallied on the beach. The great bird did not stop, but flew in a straight line for Teldrassil. The white froth of the sea brewed against the rearranged shoreline below.

At last the rain began to whip down upon wind-blown feathers. No less than an onslaught, as rough bullets of water fell upon him from the gray skies above. Thunder shattered his hearing and dazed him for but a moment. A storm brew all around him, on each side, ahead and behind. Anxiety grew within and his talons clenched in the same manner a fist would. Lightning bolts ripped the horizon asunder, he jolted sideways and the wind pulled him mercilessly off course. He fell quickly and tumbled onto his back. The druid twirled about desperately and he started to drop down from the sky. On instinct the bird's wings pressed tightly against the sides and he darted towards the earth from high above, much like a rock falling through the air at a fearsome speed. With no other option left he fell towards the water before spreading his mighty wings to take advantage of the momentum he had. The druid's direction curved during the fall until he floated just above the foaming sea beneath him. Without warning the bird was dragged into the cold water as a great wave rose above the rest and swallowed him whole.

Dark, deep and all-consuming. So was the depths beneath the waves. There was little, if any, light at all and fear began to sink into the mind as he descended into the watery depths. Vingor struggled, he did not want to die, and pushed against the heavy water with his arms while kicking firmly to climb for the surface. The foamy rage of the waves crashed against his head the moment he broke the surface to take a deep breath. The druid was dragged back beneath the surface by the weight of water and the leather he wore. Debris carried by the waves suddenly smashed against his side and knocked the air out of his body. Water rushed into his nostrils, as he heaved for his breath and fell beneath the surface, when another wave fell upon him. He arched and writhed. Bubbles bursting from his mouth as the druid screamed with a mouth full of water. The darkness grew thick around him as Vingor fell deeper and deeper into the sea. For but a moment he remembered scolding Atelniar for his fear of water. Many years ago, when he taught away the mastery of an aquatic form to his pupil, Vingor had thought Atelniar suffered a lack of determination but he was proven wrong. _Not now, I still need to know._

The druid kicked against the water with all his strength. The elven body twisted and morphed itself into a great sea-lion before it sped upwards in a desperate chase to escape a moist grave. He felt the water rush past him while he chased for a dark blur in the water that resembled rocks. Vingor broke the surface and gasped for his breath. The druid could no longer hold the form. Exhausted and cold to the bones, his muscles clenched painfully in a desperate effort to keep the body warm. Dull spasms ran through his arms and legs. The dark rock was visible some thirty yards away. A lone island, merely above sea level, coated in seaweed. He swam for it with a final effort. Waves tore at him, but he still made it. Cold elven fingers clawed at the rough rock and bled as he crawled to safety. Vingor collapsed promptly as the strength within his body faltered for a moment. His head fell, but a soft layer of sea-growth took the brunt of the impact away. The rain prickled roughly on his neck as he lost consciousness.

A flicker of light flashed before him and the sky tore open, sunlight struck the old elf's face. He felt warm but had no idea how long he had been out of it. The storm that had washed upon him was only a memory, but his garment was farm from dry. Clingy and uncomfortable. Vingor Stormcrow opened his eyes fully and watched the rays of sunlight that sparkled against the clear sea around him. _Be it Cenarius, Elune or luck. Thank you._

Vingor got to his feet, but almost fell back down at once. The rest of the journey would take a lot in his state. A weak shiver ran down his spine as he saw the contours of elven ears in the corner of his left eye. His throat felt dry and his stomach threatened to puke at the sight. He cursed and tore at the slimy sea-weed which almost covered the corpse. His cold fingers ripped the stubborn weed asunder and the face of a dead female met his eyes. It seemed to be a young Sentinel. Her lavender skin turned pale, with a shallow green hue that resembled the seaweed around her. A streak of pity rammed his heart asunder at the sight of the young elf who still held some manner of eerie beauty.

She was long dead, buried by sea-weed on a lone rock. Maybe a day or more had passed since her heart stopped. The fresh tingle of healing magic would be of no use to her at all. The druid tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes with his shaking fingers. He offered no lengthy prayer for her, but he did pay his respect to the sentinel. Thus was the deathbed of Lyraniel Moonleaf. Vingor knew not of her story, nor her name, but somewhere another would mourn her death. The druid watched her silently where she rested on a bed of seaweed. It pained him to leave her unattended, but he was too weak to carry her to shore. Vingor stepped away and morphed into a stormcrow once more. A form he had mastered for many years. His wings caught the updraft and soared higher and higher, until the rock was gone. He left behind the coast of what had been Auberdine and traversed the sea.

The wind blew steady when Vingor approached Teldrassil. The great tree of the elves was a sight to behold, even in the great calamity that had befallen the world. It stood in solitude at the corner of Kalimdor's known reaches, as a beacon of hope for all elves.

The times had changed the last few years. Not so long ago it would be a much more round-about journey if one sought to visit the Eastern Kingdoms where humans dominated much of the land. It seemed as if the disaster that had befallen the elves had made them more reliant on the bond they now shared with mortal races. The reclusive nature of the elves, while still apparent, was not as dominant as it used to be. Their ways had changed greatly by the influence of outside forces and the leadership of High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Her utmost redeeming quality was to reach out for those in aid.

Vingor landed in a rustle of feathers and dust at the very bowels of Teldrassil itself. He almost fell to his knees from the force of the landing. The eyes of others were drawn to his presence. Candles were modestly scattered in places, a sign of mourning for the dead and the song of the High Priestess haunted his ears distantly. Tyrande's voice echoed through the glimmering portal nearby. Without a word the druid dusted off his clothing and walked down the path, his gaze locked onto the harbor below. The breeze from the sea pushed at his ears, whistling as he took his staff in his best hand and clenched it firmly to ignore the chill that continued to haunt his body. He wanted to know if his pupil was still alive or dead. First, however, came duty. He had to worn the Sentinels of what he had seen at the Zoram Strand. To his frustration, however, there were no sentinels to be seen.

The elf stood in silence with a stern face and watched the waves curl in a set rhythm, as far as the eyes could see. They washed up against the ravaged harbor. Before long a ship could be seen. He observed as the elven boat laid in to the harbor and sturdy ropes were used to bind the ship in place before the passengers got to their feet and left the deck. All were wounded elves, struggling to walk or supported by the Sentinels who laid their weapons aside. Despite their fierce nature, they were still females and in their hearts beat the steady drum of a mother, daughter or a sister's affection. He reached out for one of them, a tired female who looked at him uncertainly while carrying a fellow sentinel on her back.

"I come with a message, war has come to our doorstep, orcs marched upon Zoram Strand and they will aim for Astranaar first." he claimed. She seemed confused and in shock. Fear was evident in her gaze. She had narrowly escaped death with her comrades at what had been the Feathermoon Stronghold. Vingor tightened the grip on her shoulder. "Do you understand?" he asked her. It took a moment for her to nod before he released his grip and allowed her to carry on up the hill, towards the portal which led up to the crown of Teldrassil itself. There stood the city of the night elves, Darnassus, beneath a roof of branches and leaves.

The skies shifted and waves grew bolder against the roots of Teldrassil before the boat from Stormwind finally arrived. There were few who traveled back and forth between the two nations. The human capitol had been under assault by the aspect of Death, according to the rumors. The ship's captain eyed him warily. Master Stormcrow sensed the unease and met the gaze, returning a courteous nod as a greeting, before he silently made his way into the ship's quarters.

He seated himself silently against the wall, leaning his heavy head onto the rough wood while closing his eyelids peacefully. The elvish glow still emanating weakly from beneath his eyelids while he tried to rest. _You should always rest when you can, I guess_, or so he thought. The real aim was to silence the questions he wanted answers to. Impatience was a sin. A state of meditation came over him. Uncomfortable as it was to rest his head against the wall it did dull the pressure of thoughts and feelings. The footsteps echoed off the ceiling as the crew prepared to leave the dock and sail towards Stormwind before nightfall. The flight had left him drained of energy. The tips of his old fingers prickled annoyingly. Cold to the touch and heavy, as if he couldn't control them properly. It took no more than a sigh from his lips before the elder druid was fast asleep. The ship left the harbor in the final hours of the night, shrouding its departure in a dull darkness when the craft no longer remained within reach of the illuminated stronghold of the night elves, which became a beacon on the horizon for the ship's captain. The waves rocked the ship steadily while the druid found some rest. _I really do hate the sea_.


	4. The voyage of Bravery

**The voyage of Bravery**

Sleep was overrated when at sea. One would wake up with a shaky body and a frail head, or such was the excuse Vingor had for his foul mood. Night elves were nocturnal, but he had outgrown the habit of longing for the stars and the moon on the sky when traveling. For the day was not without its moments of beauty either. The sunrise was as beautiful as when it would set and give way to Elune's light. Albeit, in its own way. His hands gripped the windowsill and he watched as the scarlet shade filled the heavens above the plane of water that went as far as any eye could see. While not quite as serene as the light of Elune and the flickering stars, it helped his mood just a little. The dull sound of footsteps sometimes caught his attention from above. He hated the sound as it had a steady rhythm just like a heart's song of life and Vingor remembered the face of the young elf from the day before. The dryness in his throat was soon washed away with a swig of moonberry juice. It was a rich taste, fruity and sweet, almost sickeningly so.

Getting to his feet was easy enough but following the movement of the wooden planks that formed the floor beneath his feet was something else entirely. A hand against the woodwork at the entry made it all the easier for the druid to make his way out of the quarters and onto the deck in the early morning. The breeze was quite firm and constant, it would not let go of his weight and made it just a tad harder to walk steadily on deck. A eerie crimson glow embraced the woodwork of the ship, drawing his gaze more than he expected a human's craftsmanship would.

"You look a tad worn-out, Master Druid. Is the sea rough on you?" A gentle voice poked at his attention, a hint of sarcasm in the way she addressed him, or rather: light humor at his expense. The young human stood there with a smile on her lips. Displaying her white teeth briefly as he turned to face her. The child in front of him looked to be a crew member, but she seemed too free at heart to be working under anyone's command.

"I am merely enjoying the view, Miss." So was the excuse Vingor Stormcrow devised without a moments hesitation. His long form straightening up in front of the girl, with his head tilting forward to observe her. Vingor was quite tall, even for an elf. The girl was not affected by the elf's posture or attitude, she only smiled and gave Vingor a pat on the upper arm before walking away. He could not help but feel confused and turned to face the sea again. Sparkles covered the water's surface as long as the eyes could see. To think that such calm waters could make his stomach complain was rather embarrassing for a grown elf. Partly enchanted and partly bored Vingor continued to admire the sparkling water as it parted by the bow and skid across the ship's flank. Much like a sword through flesh. Suddenly it became a little less beautiful to him.

Leaving the deck, he set each foot steadily down upon the ladder leading onto the captain's floor. He expected an elf, or a male to stand at the wheel. His shock was somewhat apparent as the same human girl beamed at him before flicking her fingertip out from her forehead in a mock salute. "Hey, Master Druid, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Her crimson lips pursed into a growing grin as she read the shock on Vingors face in a way only a woman could.

Vingor did not speak. He allowed the human girl to introduce herself properly. "It seems you mistook me for something else than a captain of this ship. Too busy daydreaming on the deck to notice the obvious?" She turned the wheel gently to change the course by a fraction, for what reason he did not know. The girl smirked as she looked at the elf for a moment to check his response, when none was given she shrugged and held the wheel firmly in place with relative ease. "I'm Angelina Soluna, captain of the Bravery. Nice to meet you, even if you're a weird one."

Vingor did not feel very tactful. Every sailor on deck greeted her with respect. Angelina Soluna was no mere woman, she demanded the respect of her crew and Vingor Stormcrow was the fool that had treated her like a child. "Likewise, captain." The girl tilted her head slightly, closing her eyes as if to bask in the broken pride of an old elf admitting to wrongdoings for the first time.

"Can the formalities. I couldn't care less for titles. I've got more important things on my mind, like how to navigate past the Maelstrom. We'll reach it by nightfall. If you don't like these waves I think you should spend the night in your quarters, with an empty bucket." Her words seemed to hold a tingling of a hope that he would feel worse once night came. She was no fool.

As the darkness grew heavy and the waves became nothing more than a blur of froth which could not be measured accurately, Vingor felt more uneasy than he did before. It was as if the ship itself drifted off course with more and more force. He felt how the wooden structure was swiped in one direction constantly, as if the ship was forced to follow the current and not the wind. Then it changed too, the wind, it began to howl from the port side into the great sails of the Bravery. One of the sails began to rip, a wide crack forming and tearing the sail apart in the middle. Even if it was dark it was possible to see with his eyes, being nocturnal by nature, but the sound was more than illustrative for the humans nearby.

"Take it down, this instant. You hear me?" A woman bellowed in the dark. No doubt the captain. Groans of effort could be heard as the crew strove against the never-ending current. Water sprayed onto the deck where Vingor stood and his left foot slipped before he clung to a nearby mast. The power of the sea was fierce. The water struck again. Harsh and cold. A bitter salty taste filled his maw as he clung onto the mast still. Vingor began to feel like a scared youngling. Perhaps he should have heeded the woman's advice? But before he could do anything about his situation the ship tilted heavily towards the starboard side. Horror gripped the elf as he could feel the roar of the sea tower up like a wall of water behind him. The angle of the ship was dangerously close to making the entire craft topple over, at which point they were all doomed. Humans and elves alike.

Even if he exerted himself beyond his breaking point the grip began to give way. The old elf's nails clawed desperately into the mast but the woodwork was as slippery as an eel. His hands slipped and before he could muster a call for aid Vingor slid down the slick deck. The railing crashed into his ribs and the air in his lungs was knocked out of him. Below the sea churned and growled. Crushing into the hull of the ship. The old elf's head was swimming after the impact. Even he could tell that the current below would drag him under. No trick of his could save him from the pull of the Maelstrom. A woman's hand could. Captain Soluna yanked Vingor Stormcrow by the neckline and hoisted him up. Wood creaking as the elf's weight came off the railing.

"It seems you should have followed my advice, Druid." She grinned at him. Her first mate was busy with the wheel, slowly guiding the heavy craft properly through the increasing currents in her stead as the ship regained its balance despite the currents. Vingor dug his hand into the side of stomach and forced himself across the lower deck with the help of the human. They almost tumbled down the stairs. The girl forced to carry most of his weight over to a nearby bench.

"So it would seem." He muttered, his side aching badly every time he inhaled. Speaking was more of an effort than expected.

Her smile widened, the human girl leaned over the elf to listen to his breathing. Her eyes closed while she ascertained the injury. Sure enough, his breath was shallow and strained. Her gaze dropped to his side, the Captain noticed the signs. Her hand graced his ribcage, only to have the elf wince in pain beneath her. A groan so feral it threatened to split her ears apart when she applied just a little pressure with her palm. Cracked ribs, or worse, dislocated ribs was very likely. She gave the elf a reassuring smile before stepping out onto the lower deck and motioned for a crewman to aid her.

"We need to bring him to my quarters. Fetch me a bucket of fresh water and a piece of cloth. Make sure the first mate knows that I will not return to the wheel yet and tell him to guide her as steadily as possible at the edge of the current. It will slow us down a little, but we have to." She spoke with authority before aiding her crew mate with the weight of the elf. Gently and slowly they shouldered him up the stairs and into her own quarters. A single nod towards the crew man was enough to imply that they would place him on the bed. Carefully placing the elf down they still saw how the creature winced and clenched his teeth. Once the male elf was resting on the sheets the crewman hurried out on the deck, relaying captain Soluna's orders to the first mate. Angelina Soluna sighed, through the window she noticed how the ship slowly entered calmer currents. Only a few minutes passed before the crewman returned with a bucket of freshwater which he placed by the bed.

"Leave us and return to your mast."


	5. The beast of Blackwald forest

**The beast of Blackwald forest**

It sneered, growled and sniffed in its hunt for the prey. The scent was fresh and strong, as it was the scent of a humanoid. The froth dripped from the creature's maw. Large, wolverine fangs gleamed in the darkness between the great trees. The humanoid had crossed the border gilneans no longer dared to cross: the forestline outside of Duskhaven. Its hunger grew as the scent grew more potent in the dirt, grass, trees and bushes. The prey was slow, it would be easy to feast upon its flesh. Food. Precious and warm meat. Silent paws with great claws gave easy grip in the slick dirt as it turned into a muddy puddle enclosing it. The black shadows would conceal the beast as it tracked its prey. Even if the rain would wash out some tracks the scent was always there. It sprinted onwards, aching for something to feast upon, with a fierce and determined gaze.

The rain kept pouring down. Thin branches accommodated great masses of water which sprinkled down from the smaller trees when Atelniar made his way between them. Blackwald forest was, like much of Gilneas, a land in eternal fog. Night or day, it was always shrouded with darkness. Stars would not be visible on the cloudy sky above his head. It was a eerie place for the night elf. He knew that the vast dark forest could only be Blackwald by now. Which meant that Gilneas city was not that far away, but first the druid had to escape the woods. He had no knowledge of Blackwald forest, other than the rumors which the Sentinels shared on the ship. That was before the storm wrecked large portions of the elven fleet, including the very ship he was on. When he woke up at the shore of Gilneas only splintered planks were to be seen around him, beneath the steep cliffs. Debris littered the coastline where he woke up, along with the fresh corpses of drowned elves, it had been such a dreadful sight.

_If I could only find-_, his thoughts fell asunder as a frightening howl sent chills down the elf's spine. He had heard wolves before, in many places, but none ever sounded quite so eerie. It was a dark and ominous sound, one which drove fear into the very bones of his being. The elf clawed at the bark on a tree, trying to keep his hand from trembling. It was close. Complete silence replaced the sound in its wake. Only the constant downpour of rain could be heard. There were no crows and no critters. Nothing at all. The forest rustled its branches in a sudden tug of the wind, as if it challenged its inhabitants. Atelniar had never seen a forest so malign before, even his own eyes struggled with making out the contours of far away objects, what seemed like a modest hillside was a mudslide to be with a single flawed step. His hands gripped into slick straws of grass to not slide back down the hill while his feet sank into the moist soil. An unsightly effort that made the elf grit his teeth. Dark mud-stains drenched his feet before he was halfway up the hill. His hands were no better, making it hard to cling on as the hill became steeper. Nonetheless, climbing the hill was a certain shortcut, even if it meant getting a little filthy on his hands. He had seen worse stains than that of moist earth on his hands the last few years.

With a final grunt the elf gripped the top of the hill and hoisted himself up with the strength of his own arms, only to freeze completely before he was all the way up. A low, supressed growl demanded his attention and before him stood a dark figure on all four. Canine teeth flaring a rather effortless threat mere inches away from Atelniar's face. The elf swallowed a lump of anxiety down as his eyes met the creature's own gaze. A cold and murderous stare which was fixated on him. The elf did not dare to blink while the beast bared its horrid teeth at him, the jaw opening as it hunched backwards on its hind legs and leaped at his throat. He ducked and rolled down the hill. The creature slipped despite its great claws, as it gave chase after the elf. Atelniar's vision was a blur, but he could hear the angry hisses and constant breathing of the wolf-like beast not too far behind his back. Its claws gripped at his leg, the druid kicked randomly with his other foot. It struck the creature's skull with enough force to push them both in different directions. The last he saw of the beast was a large tumbling mass of dark fur, which disappeared into a thicket, before his own body slammed into a tree-trunk with full force. The air was knocked out of his lungs and both eyes stirred a little, before he was able to regain his own focus. His head spun about wildly.

Atelniar clasped onto the tree-trunk which stopped his fall. He could hear the creature trash around, branches snapping in the thicket not too far away from him, as it tried to get loose. He began to run. Desperately fleeing through the forest on his light feet. Nimble and swift, he skipped from fallen logs and onto slippery rocks. It was a large creature, even for a beast. There had been stories about such wolf-like beings in Kalimdor as well, but he hoped he was wrong. Panic struck his ancient heart as the distance between the trees shrank and a thick silence filled the air. The sun had set fully, and twilight was no more.


	6. The oddity of humans

**The oddity of humans**

Vingor inhaled sharply. As he did, a dull throb struck against his side which left him motionless. His chest felt heavy too, as if he was not able to gain his breath properly. Both of his arms were numb and frustratingly docile when he attempted to move them. The right one stirred a little, but it felt rather unwieldy compared to what he was used to. The dream that had roused him out of his sleep gnawed at his mind, with the same potency of wolves with a rabid hunger. _Wolves_, he thought to himself, as if the name of the creatures could calm his mind. It did not work. A pale light crept across the floor; it was early morn. Bravery, as the ship was called, laid steady in the water and the awful thunder of the Maelstrom was nowhere to be heard. The elf could hear the comparably gentle murmur of human voices from the deck above him in its place, along with steady footsteps. They were safe, it seemed.

Before the old druid could gather his thoughts any further a slim figure appeared at the doorway. Angelina Soluna smirked at the night elf with dreary eyes, she had obviously steered the vessel safely beyond the Maelstrom with her own hands. With no formal greeting or spoken word, she sat down on the worn chair in front of his bed. The human girl was odd, he thought to himself as she straddled the chair the wrong way around and leaned over its back to face him. The night elf and the human looked at each other for a brief while, and neither of them spoke. A wave rocked the ship gently in the calm waters they now sailed through. The druid was about to speak but, he was cut off by the human.

"You're surprisingly tough for an old man, druid. Your ribs-" The captain's finger motioned vaguely towards the elf's upper torso with a brief flick. "-aren't in the best condition. You'll have to be careful. I don't know what brings you to Stormwind, but I recommend that you delay what business you need to attend for a while."

The woman's words did nothing to soothe Vingor's annoyance as his side prickled. "I am not so old that I would let a child tell me what to do or where I can be off to. Not yet, at least." The brief attempt he made to lift his back off the bed made him wince and he sat back, inhaling deeply to calm down. His side stung intensely for a brief while, and he knew that the human girl was right. "But I am not so old to ignore advise when it is given, either. Captain." The elf nodded briefly, which seemed to take Angelina by surprise. Perhaps she had expected a much more stubborn behaviour from an elf, but it was difficult to tell if the human was pleased or disappointed with Vingor's calm logic. She merely smiled at him, stood up and left his quarters silently. Left to his own musings, he cursed his foul luck and closed his eyes again.

The morning passed, as did noon, at a quicker pace than the night did. The crew upon Bravery stirred about, and tended to the torn ropes and weary masts. Among the scrambled mess of humans was Angelina Soluna. She raised her voice and bellowed her orders to the crew, annoyed with their goofy behaviour while the ship made poor speed through the water. She was eager to make port. Her thoughts strayed towards the druid. He was different from those she had dealt with before. A proud male, yes, but not so stubborn that one could not speak on equal terms with him. Perhaps she still had a lot to learn about elves, especially their elders. Although, she never felt a great need to learn more about them. However, they were quite fascinating. The afternoon was pleasant and a mild breeze hugged tightly against their cheeks as Bravery entered Stormwind's fortified dock. Smoke rose from the city walls and every man aboard the ship fell silent as they saw the crumbled ruins of the park district. The great wall above the port had caved in on itself, as if a gigantic monstrosity had paved its own path through the city. A solemn mood fell upon them all, even the captain, as their ship docked. Angelina checked the ropes that held her vessel in place, before heading below the deck.

As she turned to enter his chamber, her nose was caught inches from a broad chest. Confused, she peered up and noticed the night elf before her. The two had all but bumped into each other in the doorway. It was not very difficult to notice the hand that rested at his side while standing in front of her, but she made no comment on the matter. The woman turned around on her heel, addressing him while she returned onto the deck with measured steps. "We're here. Welcome to Stormwind, home of humans."

The sun sparkled brightly as Vingor climbed the stairs onto the deck. The port was an awe-inspiring sight when the sun lit up the water, as if a thousand jewels glittered all around him. The sturdy stone walls of Stormwind towered above a lush landscape, plate-clad guards patrolled the docks and the wooden structure created a stark contrast combined with the pale walls far above. The city had changed greatly since his last visit. What laid before him was single-handedly the greatest port he had ever seen since Kalimdor fell in ages past. Ships stood in line, filling every spot available. A vast expanse of masts and sails. Far above, in the distance, he could he hear the call of the sea gulls as they circled the sky. The impressive atmosphere which the scenery created had a great scar; a massive crater stained with scorched soil which had once been the park district of the great city.

To his surprise the crew and the captain remained silent as they disembarked from the Bravery and walked along the dock. Sullen expressions filled their faces and slowly he caught on to the hidden tension that lured beneath the surface of the awe-inspiring atmosphere which the port created with its sheer scale. Guards who kept their eyes locked upon the bright sky without much rest, with fists that clutched tightly upon their spears or the hilt of a sword that they carried. Fear, the city reeked of fear once you looked at it from within. Although the docks were cluttered with a multitude of humans, and other races too, there was little banter between people. In fact, Vingor could barely catch more than a low murmur from some individuals with his keen hearing. A sense of pity filled his old heart, for he had seen such despair in his own people. It was heartbreaking to behold, especially in such a young race; humans at the pride of their life who kept their heads low and their shoulders high. Frightened.

The climb along a paved road, which led to the towering city above the port, led the elf through large crowds of old, young and middle-aged humans alike. They all shared the same level of anxiety. It gleamed through their eyes which constantly roamed the horizon. Last time he had entered their city he was flocked with judgemental phrases and gazes, but now they barely paid any heed to him at all. The crew escorted him along with their captain. Their footsteps often came to a stop because of the large mass of humans blocking a path through the city, but they kept their course and it did lead Vingor past the smouldering ruins of the great park that had once been the home of elves who visited the city in the past. The scale of the devastation was immense. Sturdy stone walls were shattered and spread about the ground like pebbles, even the canal was filled with partly scorched stone which had lost its pale splendour. Windows were sealed shut with planks, and scared children peeked out of the small slits between the wood as they passed them by. First in the line of their party was the captain. She was sure-footed and carried a sense of weight behind every step, but despite that she seemed to hold up well compared to most of the inhabitants within the city. It was a simple observation for the alien elf, as he was in a city that belonged to another race, but it did add a sense of respect for the young woman whom he had first deemed as a mere child.

Their solemn trot came to a surprisingly sudden stop in the buzzing dwarf district which had changed a lot since he had last been there. A large bank, in sheer stone as well as a house of trade had been built. What had been the alley of the human city was now its very heart. Not to far off in the distance one could easily make out the walls of the royal castle. He had been there once before, some while ago. The lot of them bundled together as they entered the crowded inn which buzzed with activity. The time of day was late and the sun had begun to creep lower on the horizon, which filled the doorway with a golden glow.

"Right, men, off you go. We'll stay in port for a while, so go along and get drunk. Then, when you are done drinking, tend to your families if you have one." Captain Soluna's brief speech was abrupt and to the point, and distinctly unfeminine in Vingor's opinion, but before she had finished her last words they had all split apart and mingled with the rest of the crowd. That left him alone with the captain. A silence came between them and she was the first to break it, eventually.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now, druid, but Stormwind is no longer what it once was. The city has changed and so have the land, but it's not nature's hand." Her sentence trailed off and she motioned for him to follow. The two made their way into a sparsely crowded corner with a small table and a lit candle. The stairs and the nearby counter locked them tightly into their corner where they sat down opposite to each other. She ordered her ale and Vingor respectfully accepted her offer to buy him a cup of the dwarf-made brew. The first sip was foamy. A tingling sensation rushed to his cheeks and the old elf blinked in surprise at the potency of the brew. Ale was an acquired taste, he reasoned with himself and to his surprise the woman in front of him managed to chug down a healthy gulp in one go before planting the wooden cup firmly upon the table. She sighed and leant back in her chair, canning the formalities as it were.

"How's that side of yours holding up? Any better?" She asked, without addressing him properly. In fact, her eyes were glued to the chandelier in the centre of the room. The vivid flames flared up in her eyes, which emphasized the gloom that filled the inn. The humans spoke in hushed voices and often fell silent in between the light banter that began to surface. In response the elf chugged down a healthy gulp of the ale he was given, and his side ached a little as he did.

"I am fine." The elf assured her, as best as he could. "I have decided to follow your advice, after all, Captain. Before I continue north I will stay within the city, although time is very precious to me." Vingor's thoughts strayed and their brief exchange of words died quickly. The evening passed in silence and neither of them spoke for a long time. Humans, as they were called, were a young race but they seemed to share the same attraction to their fellows when the setting was ill. Young women began to giggle due to the odd behaviour of infatuated men, which he reasoned might be caused by the ale he held in his hand. Its potency could make a fool out of him, he thought and glanced towards the girl that sat before him. Although, judging by her way of speech and flamboyant personality, she probably would not notice.

"That's good. I won't pry into your dealings too much, but I'll arrange a room for you. It'll be faster, I know them well." Her level of courtesy took the elf by some surprise and she probably noticed the odd stare aimed at her, for before he could accept or decline her offer, she pressed onwards: "You got hurt on my ship, it's my responsibility."

The elf chuckled, and finished what was left of his cup and rose to his feet before the young human could continue. Vingor shook his head and looked down at her as he spoke: "My dear, I am an adult, I can take care of my self." With those words he left her to her own thoughts and made the arrangements needed to stay at the inn. He provided the innkeeper with the proper coin and introduced himself in a straightforward manner which was more appropriate than elven courtesy. The druid then returned to their table and the carefree captain who still sat in her chair. "But, I would need a guide through the city tomorrow. If you could? It would save me some time and pain, when I collect the supplies I need." His query caught the human girl somewhat off her guard, it seemed. She looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows and nodded slightly.

"Good night then." He turned and walked upstairs, heading to bed with a gentle trot up the stairs. He knew he looked pitiful while holding his side, but to think that a child would act like a mother as the human had done. How pathetic, he thought.


	7. Dry bread and tepid water

**Dry bread and tepid water**

Knock, knock! The sound of a fist, which hammered firmly against the door, roused Vingor Stormcrow from his slumber. His side felt sore, as such he had very little sleep during the night. He could see a pale morning light through the wooden planks, dawn had yet to rise above the city of Stormwind. The soft chirp of a bird, which took shelter within a tree somewhere outside, was the only sound which slipped past the cracks of the partly sealed window.

"You awake, elf?" The voice of Captain Soluna tore the elf from his hazy mood. His race had long been nocturnal in nature, hence their name among the humans, and to adapt to their schedule was no simple task for an elf. Especially not one as old as him.

"Yes, I will be with you shortly." Vingor raised his voice a hint above normal, to make sure she would hear him clearly. He shook his head to rid himself of the dreariness which clouded his vision, and placed a palm in front of his sensitive eyes. The sun was quite bright, to the point where it felt annoying to think of taking a single step outside. Normally, at that hour, he would be able to rest.

"Did you get enough rest? We could hold it off closer to noon, if you want." The human girl stared at him in a manner that made his neck prickle, which annoyed Vingor greatly. He shook his head dismissively and went downstairs. There was a well outside, in which he could get water. The elf washed his face and roused himself properly. He could hear the human approach him even if she tried to hide it. The wooden floor creaked under her foot.

"I am fine, we should be going now." Vingor replied at last, while drying his face on a clean piece of cloth before he paced across the square of the Dwarven District. Captain Soluna caught up to him, despite his longer legs, somehow, and led the way towards Old Town. Children were all but gone from the formerly crowded streets, and some doors were nailed shut with thick wooden planks. Old Town was a quiet place, even compared to the rest of the city. Somehow, it felt a little creepy. The fair peak of Stormwind Keep rose above the city, as it nested at the cliffs, but its shadow loomed over Old Town and kept the air cool. Rats flourished in dark corners of the dirt-ridden streets, which did not make for the most appealing sight.

Captain Soluna led the druid to a merchant who kept prices low and steady. He kept them so mostly because it was the only way to draw much business, if you were not located in the Trade District or the Dwarven District. The reason for that was that the little crowds that did venture outside usually massed together there. The dwarven district was also the centre of metalwork, hence it was a busy little beehive. Old Town was not. The SI:7's presence had always loomed over the district, along with the Alliance Command Center, but even so barely anyone tread the streets during the day. All though the Pig and Whistle did have some visitors at noon from time to time.

A soft whimper came from a dark corner nearby. Vingor stopped in the middle of the road, and Angelina Soluna came to a stop as well. She noticed how the elf's ears peaked upwards, as if they caught a whiff of something along with the wind. The elf motioned for her to be silent with his finger in front of his lips. He moved off the road and towards an alley next to Koen's store. The sun barely lit the little opening between the houses where Ol' Beasley often begged for a coin, but he was nowhere to be seen to her surprise. Master Stormcrow stepped up to a nearby well and glanced at something hiding on the other side. Angelina followed the elf, she was curious about his actions, and finally came to notice the little child who hid its head between its arms while sobbing quietly. Rags covered the little creature's legs. Its shins were bare and cluttered with bruises, and gave the impression of being a famished child due to its frail proportions. It was hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl, she thought.

The elf, however, sat down next to the child and pulled out a wooden flute. It was small and quite simple with no decorations to speak of. Vingor placed the tip at his lips and began to play. A soft melody flowed from the tiny piece of wood and the air grew warm. Angelina allowed herself to get caught in the rhythm. The elf weaved the tunes together with such skill that the sound caused her skin to tingle, as if he had placed a spell upon her. The child stopped weeping and listened in silence, but it took a while for the young one to lift its head. It was a girl, with hazel brown eyes. She watched the elf play the flute without even blinking, mesmerized by the foreign rhythm and delicate sounds that filled the alley. She was not scared of the druid, if so she hid it quite well. Most humans had heard the stories of vile creatures who hid in the forest, of a race whose women formed one of the most potent military forces Azeroth had seen. It was such stories that often caused human children to shy away or openly hate their allies, but she knew nothing of those stories. She did, however, listen to the music which the elf played for her. Soluna watched over the two as the elf played the tune until its end.

He rose to his feet and walked away, and as he left the young girl glanced after him with awe. Angelina frowned at how he could leave the poor kid without a single word, but at the same time she took note of the change in the child's eyes. The druid may not have offered a single word of comfort, but the act of playing the flute certainly had an impact on the child. Angelina knew fully well that it was an orphan child, the ruined clothes she wore was a dead give away. A part of her felt uneasy when she turned away and left the child who never even noticed her presence, those eyes still glanced after the elf who had disappeared around the corner.

"You're odd, druid. I can't tell if you're kind or wicked."

"The rats were loud." He stated, and threw the woman off her guard. A part of her wanted to punch the elf for what he had said, but she dared not. Whatever his reasons may have been, the girl had stopped crying.

The morning passed as they went from store to store and gathered the supplies he required. Master Stormcrow stocked a healthy supply of bread, but no butter. He picked up dried fruit to go with the basic bread, herbs and hardened vegetables that could survive the journey. She realised that the elf did intend to travel by foot. Hardened leather and thick cloth came before armour or sword, which he claimed he had no use for. At the end, when they were finished, the sun stood tall in the sky. The cool morning breeze had long since dried away in the sweltering heat, and their task was done. On the way back, leading towards the Dwarven District, he stopped near the alley they had visited earlier in the morning.

"Could you get hold of a bucket." He asked her.

"Why, exactly?" She demanded.

"The water back at the inn taste awful." He explained, and looked over his shoulder at her. Angelina did what he asked, but upon her return the druid was long gone. She cursed the elf and entered the smelly alley with a growl. Rats scurried away from under her feet. She tied the rope to the handle and slid the bucket into the well and fetched the druid's water. It was only then, when she pondered if she should spill the content over the old elf's neck, that she took notice of the frail girl who hid in a corner. Muffled sounds came from the shadow, as the poor creature bit into a dry piece of bread which she had probably stolen from the Pig and Whistle on the other side of the street. Her yellowed teeth clamped into the crusting bread with greed. Pity took her as the child stared at the bucket with dire thirst in her eyes. The proud woman that was Angelina Soluna abandoned her place when faced with such eyes, she walked back to the inn and left the bucket of water behind. The child needed the water more than an old elf, she thought to herself.

"Did you remember the water?" The druid asked when she entered the inn, as he sat at the same table they had shared the night before. Upon the wooden table was the very flute with which he had weaved a gentle tune, the very lips that created such a fair melody could speak carelessly as if the child he had met made no impression upon him.

"The well was empty."

"And the bucket?" Bright, elven eyes struck her own as they questioned her with curiosity.

"I returned it." She claimed.

"I see, fair enough."


	8. One-sided farewells and ill thoughts

**One-sided farewells and ill thoughts**

The day passed much as it did the day before. The inn grew warmer as the air outside turned cold. Laughter and song spread through the main hall, and dwarves drank competitively in order to settle their scores from the night before while some humans dared to loosen up. Vingor could appreciate their behaviour more than he had when he first met a human. Sometimes their actions did not make sense, and often lacked the same level of maturity which elves had due to centuries of growth. But even so, they still possessed their own logic. No matter how simplistic or unreasonable it would seem. He spoke only briefly with Angelina Soluna, she insisted that he did not address her as a captain at shore, before he retreated to his chamber. He had what supplies he would need for the journey, as the crow fly, at least. The elf's side did not hurt as much as it had done the day before, but it still stung quite a bit. As such, a night's rest would do him well before he would set off towards Gilneas. However, he felt restless. It was as if he had lingered in Stormwind for far too long. It was a bad feeling which kept the druid from settling down for the night. _No more nightmares_, he almost pleaded before sleep finally came upon him.

The faces of men and women haunted his dreams. They starved. The land was shattered, dry and barren. Loud voices called out with feverish desperation. Some of them were pleading for aid, while others were railing their anger against those who refused to help them. There was a rouse, loud noises drummed and a wall fell. Humans stormed towards each other and men died by another's blade. In a corner was a bruised girl, who bled from the corner of her mouth. The colour of her eyes were that of hazel, but they seemed weary and forlorn. She fled the scene on feeble feet and traversed the barren scenery in a foolish manner. Her lips cracked and shrivelled due to the dry climate, before she stumbled into a river bed and crawled forward. There, on her hands and knees, she drank what she could before the young girl finally noticed the lush scenery before her. Darkness and light blurred together as time passed, and Vingor woke with a dry throat and in cold sweat. He sought the window with his eyes, but dawn had yet to come. _Cursed child_.

The cold air still loomed above the city when the druid sneaked downstairs, while carrying his supplies in a leather pack upon his shoulder. The elf made no sound, for so silent were his footsteps compared to those of a human. The hall was empty, so he left a coin of gratitude behind at the bar before he disappeared into the smog of the Dwarven District. There was no one outside, not even vermin, so the city felt empty. Vingor closed his eyes for a moment and calmed his senses. He felt the cold air flow against his skin and spread his arms wide. The druid morphed into a large storm crow. Dark and grey feathers rustled softly before it took off from the square and climbed above the vast city. Frightened eyes hid behind a corner, as they glanced towards the sky. The fear turned into wonder, and the child that had not dared to make her presence known to the elf stepped onto the very spot the druid had taken off from. From there she watched the terrifying bird trek north, beyond the great wall of the city. She picked up a feather and touched it gently. It was soft and easily the length of her lower arm. The child placed it against her cheek and whispered a silent "thank you", as the rain began to fall from the grey skies above.

* * *

><p>Sölvi's world was changed, and not for the better, Auberdine was no more, in the wake of the disaster that had struck Kalimdor. Her home town was a pile of broken wood and twisted roads that had once been paved with stone. It was a ruin along a shattered coastline. Deathwing had torn Kalimdor apart when he returned to the world. Feeble attempts had been made to find survivors, for most of them were long gone, who were taken by the upset sea. That same fate was the one her sister had suffered, or so the rumours would have it. Yet, she felt a need for closure. They said that it was hopeless, that she would have to accept her sister's passing without any lingering hope, for the sea was vast and terrible, and quite deep as well. Sölvi could not accept those words. Lyraniel had always been her closest of kin. Their parents had passed away, and for the longest time it had been only the two of them. Lyraniel had taught Sölvi what little she could, but was forced to take her mother's place as one of the Sentinels. However, after a long time apart from each other Lyraniel had finally been able to return to Auberdine. Sölvi had longed for her sister greatly, for the two of them to be a family once more. But it was not to be, for when her sister returned she had been distant and obsessed.<p>

She had fawned over a male. Sölvi was never able to accept him. He was branded Shadowrunner, even though his hair was as pale as snow, and there was few who ever recognised his presence in Auberdine. The exception had been Lyraniel. To her, however, the male reeked of misfortune and danger. As such, she shied away from him. The druid, for she knew that much about him from the whispers among others, had not even attempted to approach her for her favour regarding his relationship with Lyraniel. Where was that male now? No where. She had not heard a single word from the druid since before the calamity struck. Her home was in tatters, and her sister was most likely cold and lifeless, yet he was no where to be seen. _Curse you, Shadowrunner. Curse you, and everything you stand for_. The young elf's feeble heart barely kept her alive, solely by fuming her own frustration towards him. She wanted this male that they called Shadowrunner to suffer as she did, as payment for the dishonour he had shown towards her sister.

Such were the thoughts of the young elf who entered the perilous ruins that had once been Auberdine. Dead wood cracked beneath her feet, as she searched between scattered planks of wood and broken branches from fallen trees. Sölvi had been searching in that very manner for a couple of days. Deep down, inside of her, she came to terms with her sister's death but she could not find any rest in that knowledge. Hence, she had searched ever since. Perhaps she still harboured some minuscule flicker of hope, or perhaps she simply needed to do something. The girl could not quite place her thoughts about it, but she felt a little less empty while she searched through the debris. She would spend every passing moment in a frantic search, but for the past few days she had been unable to find a single clue about Lyraniel. It was only then, when the elf sat amidst the ruins and cried for the umpteenth time that she noticed the little isle just off the shore. A sense of sorrow and misfortune came upon the girl, and frightened by what her intuition warned her about she sought to prove it wrong. In a desperate measure, she slipped into the eerily calm water and swam for the rock in the distance.

By the time she was there, her limbs shook and quivered. Sölvi froze horribly, but still clawed her way onto the little island. It was tangled in seaweed, as if the rock had once laid beneath the waves. There, she found what she had been searching for, as the mist parted in front of her eyes; her sister's face was pale and had a clear hint of the unworldly, muddy colour which belonged to the seaweed. Sölvi's knees caved in beneath her and she clawed into the tangled weed which held her kin's body captured in the afterlife. The wild shriek that tore away at her own throat was that of a wild animal in all its rage and sorrow. She cupped her sister's cheek; it was as cold as a damp rock. Lifeless. The young creature shed her tears and gritted her teeth, in between desperate attempts to speak with the lifeless corpse of her own sibling. Sölvi wanted to take her sister home, but she was not strong enough to drag the dead weight of Lyraniel back to shore, so she placed her own pendant with Lyraniel. The leaf that was made of the purest silver would keep Lyraniel's pendant company even when her flesh was gone. Sölvi was all alone, but she swore upon her sister's deathbed that she would find the male who had shamed Lyraniel's honour and repay the misfortune tenfold.


	9. A bitter girl and the wicked world

**A bitter girl and the wicked world**

The ceremony was a simple one, at best. A few fellow sentinels had participated and spoken some kind words regarding their comrade, Sölvi's dearest of kin. They had been so few in their numbers, for many of Lyraniel's fellows had suffered a similar fate to her own. They had drowned, or otherwise been battered to death amidst the ruins of Auberdine when the earth crumbled beneath their feet. To mourn Lyraniel, they lit up lanterns and placed them in small wooden boats, which they sent out at sea. They sent her dead body away in a larger craft. Sölvi could not muster the strength to hold back her tears, as she watched her dead sister's pale face drift away, when the light from the lanterns played an eerie serenade upon Lyraniel's skin. One by one, the few who had showed up to the ceremony would part with silent condolences and attempts to comfort the youth. She heard their words, but they did not reach out to her in earnest. As such, Sölvi was the last living being to witness the final journey of Lyraniel. A journey from which the sentinel would not return.

Sölvi began to shut herself in, fending for herself. Her morale had taken a hit and she could not help but feel a sense of bitterness towards the pitiful gaze she received from others. More so than that, she grew resentful towards the lover that never had the decency to mourn her sister's passing. Atelniar Shadowrunner, they called him. Sölvi began to lose sight of what was right and wrong; she spent her days brooding over what to do. She could not find her place among her kin anymore. She needed to find peace. It was with that as her new ambition that the young elf left. Sölvi packed her items in a simple satchel and cloaked herself in a hooded cape, before abandoning the relative safety of the dreary place she once called home. Her steps weighed heavier than she had imagined before leaving the doorway. It took forever to reach the trail that led to the makeshift haven from which she could cross the sea, towards Darnassus. Ships were scarce and the coastline was in a deformed state. She leased a hippogryph, which would bring her across the vast body of water long before sunrise.

Upon her arrival in Darnassus, in the late hours of the night, Sölvi found her people left in a crippled state. She saw in their eyes a presence that reeked of heartfelt sorrow. The waters of Darnassus had always been calm and so had its people, but now there was a distinct tension in the air that enveloped her. Her footsteps led Sölvi through the eerie atmosphere and over the bridge, which was a pale reflection of the moon itself. It stood as a testament to elven quality and beauty, but after the loss of her sibling, there was little pride left in its presence. There was one purpose to her visit; she would find him, the one who had failed to show his face at Lyraniel's funeral. If nothing else, at least she could tell him about Lyraniel's passing, perhaps he did not know. She needed a sense of purpose, her deep affection for her sister made it difficult to ignore that someone so close to Lyraniel would not appear at the funeral and so she lost track of all other things that might have saved her from a lack of direction in life.

Her quest led Sölvi to trace every corner of the great city in order to find as much as a single clue about his whereabouts. The early hours of morn came before long, and the weary elf lost her motivation when not a single person she asked could tell her anything. His name was of no help in her search, it seemed. Her attempts at describing him met with heads that shook dismissively. It was obvious that he was socially elusive, or rarely in Darnassus. Yet, she had no other point of reference from which to begin her search. That gnawed at her patience as she went to rest, when daylight began to stir on the horizon. It did not take long for her to drift into a deep slumber. Fast asleep, worn out by her extended search in Darnassus, Sölvi saw a strange dream.

Wings fluttered around her, and below was a vast body of water. A sea. The waves frothed upon one another and turned to milky-white streaks that spanned as far as her eyes could see. The wind roared loudly all around her, but the landscape was barren of land. She had been on a hippogryph before; however, this experience was very different. She scanned the horizon for a long time. There, far into the distance she saw a streak of land appear. It stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, but seemed out of reach. A long time seemed to pass, until Sölvi saw something move amidst the waves. It was not one item; she saw planks of wood, masts and torn sails. There was a large cluster of them all amidst the waves. Sölvi felt a sense of horror creep up on her, as she came to realise that it was not the remains of a single ship but a whole fleet.

The species of wood that made out the debris were native to Kalimdor. They were elven ships. Sölvi wanted to look for survivors, but the flutter of wings carried her onwards. The debris disappeared in the restless sea, as strong waves washed forth. Cliffs rose above the water's edge, far, far away. A vast coastline grew closer. Its shore seemed broken, as cracked cliffs gave way to beaches of gravel and rock. There, along the outline of the water, she saw the dead. Their corpses scattered beneath the waves, clad in a muddy carpet, visible from above where the water grew still, as rocky outcrops sheltered the shore. Crows shrieked and Sölvi woke up with cold beads of sweat trickling from her forehead, her hands were moist and shivered from the vision of her dream.

"Gilneas?" The word trailed off her lips dryly, as Sölvi had a pale shade upon her face. She had heard rumours about a fleet that set out to aid the gilneans across the sea. A fleet that set out just prior to the calamity that struck. Although she did not place her trust in dreams, she did remember her sister speak of the fleet. On one occasion, Lyraniel had seemed troubled by the idea of an elven fleet traversing the great sea. The elf got up, dressed herself and packed her items securely before leaving the inn in relative silence. It was a weak hypothesis, but there was something telling her to journey east.

She quickly paced across the paths that lead through Darnassus. There was a sense of urgency in her feet as they struck stone and earth with uneven force. Sölvi hastened across the pale stone bridge and below the carved tree, shaped as a ferocious bear, on her way towards the edge of the city. Upon her approach, she climbed onto a thick branch. It was as thick as a grown tree from the vast forests of yore. There, far above the sea, she called out with a high-pitched whistle. It could have easily belonged to a bird. Everything went silent, for a moment, until a flutter of great wings tore through the air. A full grown, rather imposing hippogryph landed a few feet away. The large branch she stood upon shook from the impact.

The hippogryph was a truly remarkable creature. Its feathers came in shades of a vibrant lake-blue colour and fiery red. There was a thick layer of dark-grey feathers beneath; they were only visible when very close. The feathers on the tip of the wings were grey as well. Long talons bored into the branch beneath it, as golden eyes glared at the young elf. Sölvi felt a sense of awe and terror at the sight, for the hippogryph was magnificent. Its antlers stretched above its already imposing height, for a creature moving on four limbs, and could probably pierce flesh as easily as the talons on its front limbs. The beak was pointed, narrow and long. It would part open and snap ferociously after the hand she had reached out. To pat it on the wing was not a brilliant idea, if she wanted to keep her hand, she mused before climbing onto the large creature. Its feathers felt soft and comfortable, but the glaring golden eye that peaked at her over its neck made her feel like a little babe. They were intelligent creatures; all she had to do was to indicate the direction that she wanted to travel. Before she could muster another thought, the powerful wings rose on both sides and caused a gust of air to sweep them upwards. Sölvi swayed as the hippogryph manoeuvred its way between the many branches of the great tree, before it gained momentum and tore through the air like an arrow. The creature's dive straightened out and Sölvi could feel the foam trickle upon her skin as its wings brushed against the waves. The beat of the hippogryph's wings carried the young elf towards the sky slowly. She could feel and hear the wind flow past her ears, the only other sound she could hear was that of the churning body of water below.

Time passed slowly in the sky and all things appeared so distant. Sölvi found herself wondering, if only briefly, what Lyraniel would have said about her current adventure. She had made no arrangements, had no connections that she could take advantage of while travelling and what she had brought with her would not keep her going for more than a couple of days. Sölvi knew what words her sister would have chosen; it was a fool's errand. That was the truth, yes, but at least it might give her some peace. "I will find him, or what is left of him." Her words drifted away with the wind, as she began to suspect Lyraniel's reason for being concerned about the formation of a fleet.

Eventually, the waves rolled onto the shore where Auberdine had once been. From above Sölvi saw a decimated shoreline. Stones had tumbled and moved, paths had cracked, buildings ruined and trees were broken. Sölvi came to realise, from her point of view in the sky, that there was more to what had happened than the death of her sister or the ruined state of Auberdine. Initially, the young elf had thought that the destruction was limited to the coast. She had been quite mistaken. The landscape was a cluttered mess, although much was still familiar. A massive gale tore through the air in the distance; Sölvi could feel the powerful torrent of wind snapping against the feathery wings of the hippogryph she was riding, blowing them both off course. A dark spiral of dangerous winds swept through the scenery within the old forest. It was a destructive presence; she would be better off avoiding the vortex by travelling along the coast.

It was there, when she drifted on the wind above the vast beach of Zoram Strand, that she saw more than natural disasters unfold. A large outpost of orcish origin reinforced by large walls, in the southern reaches of Zoram Strand, where the Horde now held a foothold in Ashenvale. From this stronghold, Sölvi witnessed orcs marching eastwards on Maestra's Post. She could see the mass of siege vehicles that moved closer as the hippogryph flew inwards from the coast. Her elven hands clenched tightly upon the feathers on the hippogryph's neck. The winged beast broke off its course and soared higher, to get out of reach of possible projectiles. She leaned into the hippogryph and said with a frightened voice into its ear; "Take flight due south east and take us over the Stonetalon Mountains."

It dawned upon her then, that borders would move as well. There was more than earthquakes, fires and floods, which could shake their illusions of peace. Tall peaks loomed on the horizon, before her eyes stood a tall mountain range. The Stonetalon Mountains laid south of Ashenvale and due west of the Barrens. A mountain range filled with harpies, kobolds, venomous spiders and wyverns. A place the elves cherished to that day. Far away, in the distance, she saw flames erupt from the ground and skies loom ever darker behind her. Sölvi began to wonder just how widespread the disaster was. Not only Darkshore was plagued, but also Ashenvale. In truth, the world she knew had turned wicked right before her eyes. The noise of trembling earth, crackling fire and tearing wind began to dissipate. The weary night elf was calm, but she could feel the fear that gripped tightly inside her gut. She would continue her adventure and find a purpose, even if it meant chasing a grudge towards someone she hardly knew. She knew well how illogical it was, but it was her only goal to strive after. Or so she thought, at least.


End file.
